The heavy door slides open at the gentlest touch, with nary a sound but a muted whoosh. The hallowed hall of SOC1 Level 5 remains reverently hushed, but a slight, very slight, tightening of the atmosphere can be felt, whispering on our skin. It is almost as if the building has clenched in anticipation, and the frenetic dust motes have ceased their collective dance to observe the next few moments, enraptured and expectantly perched on their vantage position in the air. Noise emanating from the traffic in the outside world mutes. Breezes calm. Leaves settle. Heartbeats still.

Silence.

In this one perfect moment, but for a fraction of a second, life appears to beckon. Against all odds and expectations, it offers us everything we have ever dreamt of. Everything.

In this one perfect moment, we dare to believe, to desire, to reach out and grasp. We yearn for, we ponder, we cherish, we remember the aspirations made long ago. Some have been forgotten; some are repressed but secretly caressed during private moments in the still of the darkest nights: the glowing embers of an eternal flame.

In this one perfect moment, we desire, more than anything, for more.

Silence.

We cross the threshold and the door slides close with yet another whoosh. The building exhales, and the dust motes, released from their spell, dance upon the air once more, delicate with nimble feet. Life resumes. Traffic, breezes, leaves, heartbeats, air-conditioners, people throb with activity. We greet the professor, exchange platitudes and take our seats. We smile, we laugh, we talk. And at the back of my mind, I know. In spite of ourselves and fractured plans, the simplest of actions- opening a door on a afternoon, stepping into a room full of books- can shimmer for one brief but perfect moment, and be sufficient sustenance for a lifetime.

And so it begins.


This entry is the first in the series titled "The HYPE", short for The Honours Year Project Epic. Future entries will be less arty farty. I promise.